Lamplight Symphony
by Catfish98
Summary: Spike's back on the Bebop, but what new trouble awaits the crew? Who is Dr. Atkinson, what is the ISGS, and what do they have to do with Spike? Ch. 2 finally uploaded!
1. Conversation with a Telephone

Disclaimer: I do not own anything...except for this toaster! *Holds toaster with pride*  
  
Notes: This story is intended to be a Spike/Faye romance but there isn't really much of that in this chapter because I'm just setting the scene right now. I'm trying to make it sort of Spike-focused when it comes to POV, because I have to admit that I'm sort of bored of almost always reading romance 'fics from the girl's perspective. I'm trying to take a sort of different approach to the "Spike really survived at the end" idea, though you'll see what I mean in later chapters. Sorry if there are typos but my writing process kept on getting interrupted by bogus tornado-sirens. ^_^'  
  
Please R&R!  
  
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Rain thundered down from the steely gray sky, its darkness increasing with every minute that passed as day slowly slipped into night. The street was almost deserted save the few straggling, umbrella-toting figures hurrying to their homes. Slowly, street lamps flickered on along the street, doing little to illuminate the dark alleyways that branched off from the wet street. On a bench illuminated by an overhanging street lamp, a lone figure lingered long after the street emptied itself of all other life.  
  
He was bent slightly forward, his long legs stretched out before him, soaked to the skin but not appearing to care. A beaten, nearly extinguished cigarette hung from his lips and his mismatched, red-brown eyes stared distantly at a space just above the pavement in front of him. He blinked slowly, seemingly unaware of the locks of wet curly hair that hung down almost to his eyes.  
  
_Deja vu..._thought Spike Spiegel with a slow sigh. I guess being awake isn't all that much better than living in a dream.  
  
He lazily plucked the cold cigarette from his lips and tossed it to the ground with a practiced flick of the wrist. He stood up slowly and carefully, nursing a long, deep wound that crossed his abdomen, careful not to reopen it.  
  
He walked slowly down the empty street with no particular destination in mind.  
  
_It's strange_, he thought. _Now that she's gone...I have no desire to see her again. Does this mean I'm that shallow? Was it even love in the first place? Is there really a difference between love and lust? Is it possible to have one without the other...or both at the same time?_  
  
Questions circled their way around in his head like some sort of demented merry-go-round. He really wasn't even trying to think up answers to them. What was the point? He was all alone again and nothing mattered.  
  
He should have died. It was all just a farce. He had gone to see if he was alive and he had realized that it didn't really make any difference. It would've been better if he had died. If the dream was hell and life was hell, what was there to live for?  
  
He was empty inside. Empty, empty, _empty_. At least when he had been dreaming he had had a mission, a purpose. The fire of revenge and the pain of loss had burned inside of him. Now all he felt was a hollow, chilling cold.  
  
He knew that pickpockets and murderers waited in the alleys he passed and he would've happily let them kill him.  
  
He looked at where he was and realized that he was standing in front of a pay-phone. It was fitting yet completely out of place in its surroundings. Standing there, solemnly and unimposingly, seeming to look back at him just as he was looking at it.  
  
"What are you staring at?" Spike asked it angrily.  
  
It simply looked back at him, as if saying _You know what._  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
_Of course you do._  
  
"Do you know how ridiculous I look, standing here and arguing with a pay- phone?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"How do you know they'll want me back?"  
  
_They will. They care about you._  
  
Something ached, somewhere in the recesses of the emptiness inside of Spike, which he quickly stifled.  
  
"They were just a bunch of weirdo's that didn't get me into anything but trouble."  
  
_Weirdo's who can give you a reason to live._  
  
Spike definitely felt a pain in his heart at those words, one that he couldn't suppress. After a moment of indecision, he walked slowly over to the pay phone and punched in the Bebop's communicator number.  
  
_I knew you'd give in._  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Ed returned to the Bebop only seven weeks after leaving to live with her father.  
  
"Ed woke up one morning and Father-person was gone." She admitted. "Ed searched for a long, long time but couldn't find him.sooooooooo Ed came back to be with Faye-Faye and Jet-person and Spike-person!"  
  
At the mention of Spike's name, Jet scratched the back of his head and looked at nowhere in particular and Faye turned away and sighed, taking a long drag from her cigarette.  
  
"Ed," Jet said slowly, searching from inexperience to find the words to tell a child that someone they were attached to had died.  
  
"What's wrong, Jet-person? Why isn't Faye-Faye saying anything? Where's Spike-person?"  
  
"Ed, well, you see." Jet attempted to start again. He sighed heavily. "Damn, I'm bad at this," He muttered.  
  
Just then, the vid screen beeped, indicating an incoming call. Saved by the bell, Jet thought to himself.  
  
"I'll get it, Jet," Faye called from the old yellow couch where she had recently made it a habit to sleep, in what Jet thought was her own way of mourning Spike.or maybe she was still waiting for him to return. The both knew how naОve her actions were, but he wasn't so insensitive that he would tell her to stop. Jet had seen the encounter between her and Spike before he had left and he wasn't so slow as to not be able to see her true feelings. Faye perched on the table in front of the screen, wearing the same blank, slightly sad look that hadn't left her face since Spike had left. She tapped the receive button and fell of the table with a sharp gasp when she saw the face of the screen.  
  
"Do I really look that bad?" Asked a voice from the screen A voice slightly muffled by the sound of heavy rain in the background. A voice that sent Jet into momentary shock.  
  
"Spike-person!" Ed shouted with joy, leaping over the couch and landing on the table in a headstand. "Spike in the rain, a doggie on a train!"  
  
"Y-you're dead!" Faye stammered in shock from the floor.  
  
"Not the last time I checked." Spike laughed dryly.  
  
Jet had slowly recovered and made his way around to the vid screen. "Dammit, Spike. You gave us a bad shock. Where have you been for the past two months? Why didn't you call us?"  
  
Spike ignored the questions. "Look, Jet, I need to be picked up. Could you come and get me? I assume you're still near Mars."  
  
"What happened to the Swordfish II?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You don't look too good."  
  
"Maybe it's from standing in the rain. I'm sending you the coordinates."  
  
"We'll be there as soon as we can."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
The screen clicked off and Jet shook his head in bewilderment. "He disappears for months and then just calls one day like he never left." He glanced over at Faye. "Are you okay?" He asked.  
  
Faye had a glazed look on her face. Her eyes were staring at the place where Spike's face had just been on the vid screen. She suddenly shook herself and ran a hand through her hair, flashing a weak smile at Jet. "Sorry, this is just kinda weird for me. I think I need to get some rest." And with that, she stood up and walked to her room for the first time in two months.  
  
Ed had already disappeared to some other corner of the ship along with her Tomato and Jet heard Ein scratching himself lazily from some small nook behind a piece of furniture.  
  
Jet shook his head again and sighed, walking to the controls to set the course for the coordinates Spike had sent.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Spike sat on his bench once more, feeling a world different than how he had the last time he had sat here. Now his heart was aching. In fact, he was aching all over and he could feel now that the long period of self-neglect in the rain had given him a fever and a severe head cold.  
  
Gradually, as he sat there and watched the street lamp, the rain slackened off and the clouds began turning a lighter shade of gray. Eventually, the street lamp flickered off and the rain stopped completely, slowly pulling the clouds away with it.  
  
As the rumbling engine of the Bebop grew louder as it approached, sunlight, warm and golden, cracked through some miniscule holes in the heavy gray clouds.  
  
After all, Spike thought. The pain is a hell of a lot better than the numbness.

  
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To be continued! Please review!


	2. Unwelcome Company

Okay, finally I've completed the next chapter! I started on this several times, didn't like it, and restarted it. This is one version that I'm pretty satisfied with, though I still need some practice writing CB 'fics. Heh heh, thanks for bearing with me despite the extreme delay between ch. 1 and this one, but I spent a lot of time working on my Trigun fic so I've decided to work on this one for a while (with an advance apology to people who want me to continue that!). Unlike some people, I can't really work on two fics at once successfully.

So, you know what I realized? "Spiegel" means "mirror" in German! Isn't that awesome? *Cricket noise* Er…well I thought it was awesome. ^_^;

Thanks to:

Red-tenko, Demon Princess Ryoko, Ms. Grim, Case, HealerAriel, Picasso-bebop, Amber725 a.k.a.Stimpy, Sexy Vixen, and Space Cowboy and Cowgirl

Er, sorry, still only minimal S/F in this chappy. I'm still trying to get the main plot on its feet, so bear with me for a little while. I SWEAR the next chapter will have some!

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The Bebop descended to the water ringed in a halo of sunlight like some sort of divine chariot, or so Spike thought in a slightly fevered manner. The battered old ship came in and out of focus rapidly, and Spike felt his head spinning in an overall unpleasant fashion. With an act of mighty willpower, he pushed himself up from his bench, making his head reel in another fit of intense dizziness. He vaguely saw a few figures emerge from the ship and staggered a few steps towards them before darkness descended over his vision like a heavy veil. He felt himself falling forward and before he fell completely unconscious heard a female voice calling his name.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Faye felt a painful ache in her heart as she looked at the condition Spike was in. She held his limp form in her arms and noted unhealthy pallor of his skin and its wet and chilled texture.

"You big lunkhead…" She bit her lip in an attempt to hold back the unwelcome tears that had sprung unexpectedly to her eyes. Damn, she hated crying, especially since Jet and Ed were rapidly approaching.

She stood up with difficulty, dragging Spike up with her.

"Shit…" Jet said, looking at him with wide eyes. "What has he done to himself this time?"

Faye felt a warm wetness on her arm and pulled it back, revealing the huge gash in Spike's abdomen which was now bleeding profusely. She drew in a short gasp of surprise.

"Here help me with him," She said, quickly recovering from her shock. Jet hoisted up his legs and they dragged him back to the Bebop, trailed by a strangely subdued Ed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"So," Said Jet, two hours later as he and Faye sat in the living area of the Bebop. "Where do you think he's been all this time?"

Faye glanced over at Spike who was still lying, unconscious, on the couch. "I think we might never know. It's been this long, yet his wounds haven't completely healed yet. They're not really infected and they're partially bandaged, so I'm guessing that someone helped him. But if someone did, I have no idea why they would just turn him out onto the street before he was even finished healing." She sighed and ran a hand through her purple locks. "None of it really makes sense."

"You really think that?" Jet turned to look at her and smiled wryly. "I thought you knew Spike better than that. He's moody, he's stubborn and worst of all he hates accepting help from other people. Chances are, he left by himself. It would be just like him to wander around aimlessly until he collapsed." His expression darkened. "What I want to know is what suddenly made him decide to come back."

Faye shook her head. Now that Jet said it, it made a lot more sense. Spike was a jerk.

But he was also a jerk that Faye had missed a hell of a lot, though she would be loathe to admit it.

"Jet-persooooooon!" Ed called from her Tomato. 

Jet sighed. "What is it, Ed?"

She jumped up onto the table, walking on her hands. "We have a problem, Cap'n! Horrible, teeeeerrible problem!" She said dramatically. "Bebop-Bebop is being tracked by a mysteeeeerious ship!"

"What kind of mysterious ship?" Jet asked, walking over to the overly exuberant girl, who had pretended to faint on the floor.

Ed pointed at the screen where a box reading "Incoming Message" flashed steadily.

"Are you going to answer it?" Asked Faye, who was also leaning over Ed's shoulder to peer curiously at the screen.

"I guess," said Jet, rubbing his neck. He punched a key and a video feed appeared, displaying the face of a man wearing a lab coat and thick-framed glasses.

"Give us back our subject," said the scientist with barely concealed anger. 

"Give you back your what?" Jet asked in confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know damn well I'm talking about," the manned whipped out a clip-board and consulted it for a moment. "Mr. Spiegel. The man you are harboring on your ship."

"What do you have to do with him?" Faye asked defensively.

"He's our subject," the man waved a hand impetuously.

"Yeah, I think we've established that." She snapped. "So could you tell us who the hell you are?"

"My name is Dr. Atkinson. I'm the head of the Institute for Specialized Genetic Studies, or the ISGS. If you do not return our subject immediately, we will be forced to use force to remove him ourselves."

Faye snickered at this statement but Jet motioned for silence. "Spike is our crewmember. He returned to this ship voluntarily, and you have no power over him."

Dr. Atkinson narrowed his eyes. "Be that as it may—and I'm not saying I believe you—Mr. Spiegel is necessary to current research the ISGS is conducting and we will involve the ISSP if you do not cooperate."

"Then go ahead and involve them," Faye hissed, turning angry suddenly. "We're not giving up our crewmate to you bastards."

"I agree with her, Dr. Atkinson," Jet said sternly.

"Well, if that's the way it is," The man said huffily. "Then I'll see you when we board your miserable wreck of a ship—"

Jet slammed the "end conversation" button with a snarl and stalked off. "I'll show him what this 'miserable wreck of a ship' can do! Faye, get the Redtail ready! Ed, try and hack into their system. I want to know what exactly they have to do with Spike."

"Aye, aye captain!" She said, skipping off and leaving the room completely devoid of life except for the figure on the couch.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Spike's eyes opened slowly to the scene of the empty room.

_I wonder where everyone is... _ He thought, sitting up with a slight wince.

After a short moment, the ship was rocked by a vibrating explosion that nearly knocked him off the couch.

"Shit! What are they doing?" He cursed, nursing the jarred wound in his abdomen. He got up from the couch slowly and made his way down the corridor towards the control room, pausing when more explosions shook the ship. He found Jet in the room, trying his best to evade the artillery of the attacking ship, which was a noble but largely useless effort due to the size and relative clumsiness of the Bebop.

The ship attacking them was pure white and brand-new looking, standing out like a sore thumb against the blackness of space.

There was a streak of motion as Faye's Redtail swerved in front of the ship, shooting protecting it from the missiles and doing a much more effective job than Jet's efforts.

"Looks like you've gotten yourself into quite a situation," Spike said with slight amusement.

"Just shut up, Spike," Jet grunted as more explosions racked the ship.

"What can I do to help?"

"Go back to sleep."

Spike shrugged and exited, though he didn't head back to the couch. A few moments later found him in the hangar, looking up at the Hammerhead.

"I wonder what this old piece of junk can do?" he said, climbing carefully into the ship.

He quickly identified all of the controls and started it up. He punched the comm link.

"Open the hangar, Jet."

Jet's pale, slightly startled face filled the screen. "Like hell I will! You're in no condition to fight!"

"And you're in no condition to stop me, seeing as it doesn't look like Faye can hold out on her own for much longer."

Jet sighed at the truth and opened the hangar doors.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Flying the Hammerhead turned out to be a lot different than piloting the Swordfish. It was larger, heavier, and clumsier, requiring larger movements to steer it.

The grappling hook also took a while to get used to as the first time he tried it, it almost flew through the front of the Bebop.

"Shit, Spike! Watch what the hell you're doing!" Jet barked. "I don't want you wrecking _either_ of my ships!"

But Spike was hardly listening. He was having fun. He managed to reel the grappling hook back in and turned the Hammerhead around to face the attacking ship. Faye's face appeared on his comm. screen with a beep.

"Spike you lunkhead! What are you doing? You're supposed to be resting!" She screeched.

"Am I?" Spike smirked. "It looked to me like you needed a little help."

"What are you talking abou—"

Spike closed the comm. link and focused at the task at hand. Now that he thought of it, that ship looked kind of familiar.

And he didn't like it one bit.

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Yay! Spike's gonna kick some ass! Review or else it will be yours!


	3. Thoughtful Interlude

Hey, I finally have another chapter! Go me! Okay, well I guess I won't detain you any longer. Read up, folks.

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Faye sat lazily on the beaten yellow couch, listening to the distant echoes of voices from the other side of the ship. Spike and Jet _again_. She moaned and stretched. They'd been in there shouting for an hour after they'd managed to lose that ISGS ship. Mysterious, but nothing more dangerous than a dozen other conflicts they'd been involved in. 

She sighed heavily and inspected her nails. At least things were back to normal. Kind of.

There was an air of tenseness on the Bebop, and had been ever since Spike had called out of the blue. Gah, Spike. She was definitely not in the mood to ponder her feelings on _that _topic.

That moment, the man in question came storming into the room, looking pouty and slightly off-balance.

"Get off my couch, Faye."

"Since when was it yours, Lunkhead?"

"Since forever! Now move your ass!" He growled.

"No, I think I'll stay here just to—Spike!"

She had been preparing a nice and stinging comeback when Spike had to up and pass out onto the floor. She ran over to him, more worried than the rational side of her mind thought necessary, and slapped him lightly. No response. With a grunt of effort, she hoisted him up and dragged him over to the couch, muttering.

"This is one hell of an evil way to get me to give him the couch."

Faye dropped Spike with an uncharacteristically large amount of care onto the couch and rushed to the kitchen to get some cold water and a washcloth.

"The way he was fighting back there made me practically forget that he's got one hell of a bad cold." She murmured as she returned to the room, checking him for any sign of movement. She dabbed the wet cloth along his hairline, then down his cheek to his jawbone to his neck.

_Never would've paid this much attention to him a few months ago. _She thought absently, and it was true. All she'd done when he was sick or injured before was either beat him with pillows or take his oranges. And then there was that one time when they'd both gotten the flu from Jet…

She smiled at the memory until her attention was diverted to slight movement from Spike.

He opened his eyes blearily and squinted up at her, his memories slowly coming together. 

"I'm…mad at you," He said distantly. "Aren't I?"

Faye sniffed. "Why should I tell you that if you don't even know what you're supposed to be mad at me about?"

Spike shrugged, or made the equivalent motion of a shrug by a man lying prone on a couch with several injuries. He attempted to sit up but Faye pushed him back down.

"Anyway, it was stupid of you to waste all of your energy fighting with Jet. You're sick, remember?" She scolded, feeling like a nagging mother.

"Yeah, yeah." Spike muttered but didn't resist as she checked his bandages and generally fussed over him.

"Well at least you didn't mess anything up too bad," she concluded as she finished her examination. "But out of curiosity, just how bad did you mess up the Hammerhead?"

Spike grinned fondly. "Ah, pretty bad. Most of that yelling was just him fuming and pouting about all the repairs he'll have to do."

Faye chuckled and stood up. "Interesting. Usually it's me who has to endure that. Nice to see the tables turned for once." She removed her headband, ran her hand through her hair and was about to replace it when Spike spoke.

"Don't. It looks better that way."

Faye's eyes widened in shock and mild disbelief. She was momentarily flattered that he actually paid attention to how she looked but quickly regained composure. 

"Oh, so says Mr. Fashion." She smirked but didn't put the headband back on. Sitting down on the table, she watched Spike out of the corners of her eyes. "So, do you have any idea who those guys in the white ship were?"

Spike looked momentarily distant. "I did kind of feel like I recognized it when I saw it, but I'm drawing a blank. Is there a reason you think I should know who they were? I just assumed that it was just some other bounty hunter or ISSP officer or corrupt corporation that you two managed to piss off in the course of tracking a bounty."

Faye opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again abruptly. She'd been about to tell him about the conversation with Dr. Atkinson until she thought better of it. _Spike's had enough to deal with. I'll wait until he's better before I tell him._

Spike stared at her expectantly. "Well…?"

Faye snapped out of her thoughtful reverie, and to her own private horror, felt her cheeks color. "Oh, ehm…I don't really know. I was just wondering. You were really fighting with a vengeance back there, it seemed." She committed mental suicide as she felt herself add a ditzy giggle onto the end of this brilliant statement.

Spike pushed himself up on one elbow and looked at her quizzically. "Faye, are you sick or something? It seems like you're acting really weird."

She turned away abruptly. She had, indeed, done some in-depth analysis of her life during the time Spike had been "dead" but she was sure as hell not gonna unearth it all now, especially not in front of the dead man himself. 

"I'm fine," she said steadily. "It's just a little too much excitement for me all at once. I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, she exited the room. Spikes eyes stared after her even after she left, his mind pondering carefully. Despite how "normal" everything looked here on the surface, something had definitely changed. Something had taken the people he had known so well he could predict every other word that came out of their mouths and turned them into almost complete strangers. Even Ed—Ed for Christ's sake!—probably the most predictably unpredictable person in the galaxy was not who she used to be.

He started as he felt something cold and wet nudging his palm. He looked down to see Ein grinning up at him with his tongue hanging out and wagging his tail. Spike smiled. Alright, so almost everyone changed.

_Have I changed?_ Spike asked himself, turning his reflection inside. This, he knew, was a daring act, one which he hadn't even attempted to do since his encounter with Vicious and…Julia's death. There were monsters within himself that it was painful and sometimes damaging to face. Spike shut his eyes and wiped all of the images that lingered in his conscious mind from existence. Jet, righteous anger barely concealing pride and satisfaction at his return, Faye with her foreign and newly acquired far-away lonely look framed by strands of shiny black hair, Ed with a certain level of innocence no longer dwelling in her open eyes, and Ein, trusting and wise beyond the normal capabilities of a dog, smiling despite the problems of the world.

Spike removed it all from his mind and dived deep. Deep into the memories he hadn't touched since the moment they happened. Memories too dark for his mind, and heart, to bear…


End file.
